


Happy Anniversary

by thegillovnyway



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: 25 years of the x-files, 5 e-mails a year and how many phone calls?, F/M, how many text messages?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegillovnyway/pseuds/thegillovnyway
Summary: You think David and Gillian have any idea what a special day September 10th is?





	Happy Anniversary

She gets the message shortly after 10 a.m., sitting in a café surrounded by friends and business partners. Her phone buzzes and shrieks and Gillian, mouthing an apology, expertly clicks to read it without even picking up the phone, without looking interested. David. Her heart will always beat just a bit faster, a bit less steadily when she reads his name.

“Happy 25th, G-woman!” The message reads and Gillian stares longer at it than is appropriate. She’s no longer listening to what is going on here in his London café, in her life. Her fingers tap against the screen, thinking about it. What is she missing here?

“Gillian?”

“Yes, I’m listening,” she says unaware that her voice is slipping into her American accent simply because she’s thinking of David, thinking about 25 years.

“Do you need to take that call?” Several pairs of eyes land on her and she nods, just like that. She excuses herself and the conversation picks up again as her chair scrapes along the floor. Her heels click as she finds a quiet hidden corner. Quickly, she presses the button to call David, who picks up after a few rings.

“What does that message mean?” No hello, no preliminaries; she neither has the time, nor the patience for this. She doesn’t want to play guessing games, not with him.

“Today is our anniversary. Or no, it’s the show’s actually,” he chuckles. His voice sounds thick, still waking up.

“What?” Gillian is still lost. She presses a finger against her temple. It’s Monday, she’s tired. There’s work to be done. She doesn’t want to think about the show, it’s done. It should be done.

“25 years ago our show – remember it? – premiered on television. A milestone apparently.” She is quiet, as is he. That’s half her life, 25 years. She doesn’t remember. What was she doing that day? Filming most likely. With David by her side, spurring her on, teaching her in low murmurs to stand here, to look there. A whole lifetime ago.

“I didn’t know that was today.”

“Hmm. I didn’t either. I have people who tell me these things.” The way he says people makes her close her eyes, press her fingers between her closes eyes.

“I have people too.”

“I know that. Listen, that’s not what this is about,” David says, sighs on the other end of the line, of the world. “I don’t want to fight,” he adds softly. “This anniversary just made me think about you.”

“Where are you?” She needs to know. 5 a.m. or 2 a.m. It makes a difference, it does.

“What?”

“Where the fuck are you David?”

“Home. In New York.” Gillian smiles to herself, licks her lips. It shouldn’t matter, it shouldn’t and yet. And yet. “Who would have thought, huh? That we’d be here 25 years later.”

“I didn’t think we’d last. The show, I mean.” Because they, David and Gillian, didn’t. Never could have. Never should have tried. They burned so bright, so fucking bright and now all that’s left are ashes, broken pieces.

“I know what you meant. Would you change it? If you could go back and change it? Would you want to change it?” Her first instinct is yes. There are so many things she wants to take back, to do again. But as the silence stretches, as she listens to David’s deep breathing, the sound that has always calmed her, she realizes that it’s not the truth. As she closes her eyes, she smells rain. When her lips twitch into a soft smile, she hears his laughter in her ears; a sound long gone, but never forgotten. Why would she want to forget that? Change that?

“No. Not a single day. What about you?”

“No. Not a single day,” David steals her words, doesn’t even have to think about it.

“How about when we weren’t talking? When it took forever to fix my hair?”

“No. Not even those. Not a single day, Gillian. They made me realize, in hindsight, how much I love – like – fuck, am I still allowed to say I love you? They made me realize I loved you. How much I need you there by my side. I was an asshole.”

“You were.”

“Still are?” He chuckles.

“Yes, you still are,” Gillian replies, chuckling herself. She wishes he could see it. She wishes they could stand in the rain again, just once more. Just the two of them.

“Happy 25th anniversary, Gillian.”

“Happy 25th,” she repeats, her knees suddenly weak; everything inside her unsteady.

“Here’s to 25 more, huh? Think we’re going to make it to 50 years?” Gillian stares at the table in the back. People she knows, barely, people who work for her, with her. None of them could ever be David, could ever take his place. Nothing – no one – could ever come close. Her heart constricts in claustrophobia for a moment before it releases her again.

“If not us, then who?” She says softly, feeling tears behind her eyes. If only he was here, if only. “I’m going to make it to 50, if you are.”

“I’ll be there.” And just like that, the line disconnects.


End file.
